Then, faint scrapes whispered through the darkness—the sound of chitin dragging against stone. From a low tunnel mouth, two beetle scouts crawled into the midden chamber.

Their carapaces glimmered faintly with a dull, resinous sheen, antennae cutting the air like twitching blades. They moved with mechanical precision, mandibles clacking in a soft, unnerving rhythm as they hauled fragments of bone and rot from the tunnels and cast them onto the midden heaps.

The refuse tumbled down in wet thuds, adding to the grotesque mound of decay, as though the scouts were tasked with feeding the chamber itself rather than searching for food.

The stench of rot thickened with every step they took, a sour tang that clawed at the back of the throat.

The party remains in position, each member finding their own cover within the chamber—shadows, stone, or bone piles—every one of them wound tight with waiting energy, their silence threaded with the same taut anticipation.

Yvren raised his hand, palm outward, a silent command that froze them in place. The gesture carried quiet authority, but even his steadying presence could not ease the razor‑edge tension hanging in the air.

The scouts paused, antennae flicking, heads cocking as if they sensed something unnatural.

One turned toward Kalrek's hiding place, mandibles flexing, a low click resonating in the chamber. For a heartbeat, it felt as if the fragile veil of secrecy might rip apart at any second.

Tholn's eyes narrowed to slits, violet gleam catching the faint glow of fungus on the walls. His limbs coiled like a drawn bow, silent, patient, yet ready to descend in a heartbeat.

The tension snapped with Yvren's subtle gesture, a flick of the hand like a spark striking tinder.

In an instant, the shadows themselves came alive.

Ash surged forward, his form unravelling into whips of darkness that lashed across the chamber, seizing the nearest beetle scout in a web of writhing black.

"Sorry buddy," Ash said, voice low and dangerous.

The insect screeched, legs flailing as the shadows pinned it against the midden heap, its carapace grinding audibly against bone and rot.

Before the sound could echo twice, Veyra moved. Her bowstring thrummed like the pluck of a harp, and twin arrows flew in the same breath. They sang through the cavern air and buried themselves deep into the joints of the second scout, cracking the resinous armor where plates met soft sinew.

The beast jerked, staggering under the sudden precision of her assault.

"Straight to the mark," Veyra whispered, eyes narrowing, "Now stay down."

From above came a hiss of air—Tholn, dropping from the stone outcrop like a predator in full strike.

He landed atop the wounded beetle with a feral grace, blade flashing violet in the dim light. The carapace split beneath his weight and strike, the sound like a boulder rending apart, echoing through the chamber in sharp finality.

"End swiftly," Tholn growled, pressing his weight down as ichor spilled.

Even as ichor sprayed across the stones, Kalrek forced trembling hands into motion. He carved his rune mid‑breath, each line shaky yet burning with urgency.

"H-hold it steady! Just a little longer!" he cried, voice cracking as his glyph took form.

When he slammed his palm down, the glyph flared to life in a burst of blinding aether light.

The second scout convulsed, shrieking, before its body seized and collapsed in a steaming heap of cracked shell and smoke.

For a heartbeat, the cavern was filled with nothing but the hiss of settling shadows and the rapid breaths of the party.

"There must be more," Ash muttered, eyes narrowing, "There's no way it's just these two who throw away the food."

"Don't trust it," Yvren warned sharply, staff glowing faintly.

The victory seemed sudden, almost too easy, and relief—thin, fragile—began to thread its way into their chests.

Then it came: a new sound, far heavier than the scouts' skittering.

A thunderous clicking reverberated from deep within the tunnel, a cadence that carried power and warning.

The tunnel mouth yawned wider with each echoing click until the shadow of something colossal filled its frame.

Emerging slowly, the Keeper Beetle dragged its bulk into the midden chamber, each step shaking loose grit from the cavern ceiling.

Its armor gleamed wetly, a lacquer of resin plating that seemed fused with stone itself, edges glistening with ooze that dripped in fat drops to the floor. Mandibles curved like hooked scythes clacked open and shut, exhaling a hiss that sizzled where its saliva touched rock.

The air grew heavy, charged with menace; even the refuse piles seemed to shrink under its presence.

To their eyes it looked uncannily like the Carrion Commander Beetle they had fought before—its stance, its cadence of mandible clicks, even the shimmer of its faint wing‑beats beneath its shell.

But there was more weight behind its presence, more hardened bulk in its armor, and a sharper, more deliberate rhythm to its movements.

It wasn't just a guardian—it was a living bulwark, a sentinel bred from the nest itself.

Every step pressed that truth into the earth, a reminder that the midden was sacred ground and they were intruders who would be crushed if they faltered.

At first the Keeper Beetle did not notice them, lumbering into the chamber with its hiss and the clatter of its armored limbs. Its antennae swept wide, tasting the air, mandibles clacking in that unnerving cadence they had heard before.

The party held still, breaths shallow, hoping the shadows and the midden's stink would cloak them. For a tense stretch it prowled, dragging its limbs across the heaps of bone and rot as though testing for disturbances.

Kalrek's mouth went dry.

"Hehehehe...," he muttered under his breath, forcing a crooked grin, "Of course it had to be the one that caught me mid‑stream. Wait... it's not the exact same one. That beetle's gotta be a relative of this one. Figures. Well, this time, I'm the one interrupting you."

Tholn's grip tightened on his blade, knuckles pale, his reply a low whisper, "It looks like the commander we faced before. Remember the neck hinge—we'll exploit that."

Ash's lips peeled back in a low growl, voice kept to a hushed rasp as shadows coiled at his paws, "Then we bring it down together, before it can call the others."

Kalrek leaned forward, whispering harshly as he reached into his pouch with a sly look on his face, "Hold up—let me take it one‑on‑one. A rematch I can't pass up."

"Are you insane?" Veyra hissed, bowstring quivering as she kept her tone low, "If it manages to inform the swarm about us then the rest of them will be onto us."

Kalrek bristled, still whispering back in defiance as he pulled out a stone with faint glowing marks, "Relax, I've got just the trick. I'll soak its wings before it can even buzz. Call it… poetic payback."

Tholn's words cut like a blade but stayed quiet, "You'd be pushing us and yourself into its jaws and dooming us all."

Kalrek rolled his eyes, whispering with mock offense, "Oh come on! You don't even know if it's the same beetle. It just looks close enough—and that's reason enough for me to try!"

Yvren cut off their bickering with a sharp gesture of his staff, his voice low but commanding. "Enough. We do this together. Into positions—use what you've learned. Hold the line, strike with precision, and don't let it draw breath to signal the swarm."

Hearing Yvren's order, each of them shifted as quietly as possible, the scrape of leather, the faint whisper of metal, every sound feeling far too loud beneath the Keeper's looming presence. His word was final and they could not refute it... and also the Keeper Beetle was making its way closer so there was almost no more time to argue.

Their pulses thudded in their ears, and even the stench of rot seemed to weigh heavier, pressing down with the knowledge that one mistake would end them.

The beetle prowled, antennae twitching, mandibles clacking as though sensing something just beyond reach. The tension was unbearable, a taut silence where even the drip of resin from the ceiling sounded like thunder.

Then the silence betrayed them.

Clack... Clatter...

A pebble skittered loose from Kalrek's trembling hand, bouncing off a stone with a sharp crack.

The Keeper froze, antennae whipping toward the sound. Its head turned slowly, wings vibrating beneath its shell, and a hiss like steam escaping a forge poured from its jaws.

The creature reared up suddenly, forelimbs slamming into the stone with a booming crack, scattering shards of bone and resin into the air. Its hiss crescendoed into a roar-like screech that rattled the marrow, the moment it fully realized intruders had entered its midden.

The chamber erupted in chaos as the Keeper surged forward.

BOOM!

Its massive limbs gouged deep furrows through the midden, each strike raining shards of bone like shrapnel.

Arrows sliced through the air, some glancing harmlessly off its shell.

CLANG!

Blades rang against its armor.

Shadows lashed forward, wrapping but failing to pierce.

But all skittered harmlessly across its resin-plated armor, forcing the group to abandon brute force for coordination.

Ash and Tholn moved first, aiming their strikes at the vulnerable neck hinge they remembered from their last encounter with the commander beetle.

Veyra's arrows streaked toward the same weak point, and for a breath it seemed they might break through.

But with a sudden twist of its plated head, the Keeper deflected the attacks—sparks and ichor spraying as it forced them back.

Veyra's jaw tightened as she lowered her bow for another shot, "It defended… it actually blocked us."

Tholn growled low, violet eyes gleaming, "This one's tougher. Stay sharp."

The beast reared, carapace splitting as its inner plates shifted aside. A low, rising drone began to thrum from its wings, the vibration that could summon the swarm.

Veyra's face paled as the sound grew, "It's calling them—if it finishes, we're done."

Ash's shadows writhed in agitation, "We have to stop it now!"

Kalrek's eyes widened, and a crooked grin tugged at his lips. "Not this time, bug-boy," he whispered, half‑mocking, half‑serious, as he yanked a small stone engraved with a faint blue mark from his pouch.

He then hurled it forward, the rune glowing as it struck the ground beneath the Keeper.

FWOOOSH!

The stone erupted in a wave of conjured water, crashing over the beetle's body. The liquid drenched its carapace and soaked the delicate wings just as they spread. The droning buzz faltered, sputtered, and died into silence—the threat of summoning reinforcements cut short.

The Keeper hissed furiously, shaking off the water in heavy droplets, its attention snapping fully to Kalrek.

The fight was still far from over.

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